The Sniper in the War
by Cjs812
Summary: What a sniper in the attack on the White House does, when he's dying. Highly appreciated if you review, so i can make better fanfics


I don't own COD, nor will I ever. The COD series is owned and made by Treyarch and Infinity Ward, a division of Activision. Only the ideas contained within this story are my property. I make no profit off of this.

An idea came into my head that wouldn't go away. My idea was _"How did the US Rangers feel when their country was under attack by the Russians?"_

The US soldier and the Russian were locked in combat. They both had their knives out. None of them went for their pistols in their holsters, as they were afraid the other would either draw their pistol out faster, or they would rush in and stab them.

The circled the destroyed room, which, when looking out of its large window, looked over the Whiskey Hotel. The US ranger had come here with the intent to help his squad out, and provide sniper support. The Russian had managed to intercept him, hell-bent on killing the soldier.

The tension was high. It seemed to the US soldier that there was a lot of pressure on him. Whoever won and took control of the room had the ability to make or break the US' chance of retaking Whiskey Hotel.

The Russian was also feeling the pressure. He was never put into a situation like this. It would usually be a comrade or captain who would engage in one-on-one combat. He felt that the pressure was getting tired, slowly sapping his strength. His tiredness was his downfall. His arms lowered, weakening his defence.

The US ranger noticed immediately, and took this opportunity to take him down. He ran forward and stuck his blade into his neck. But the Russian did not die immediately. He raised his knife and stabbed it into the American's chest.

The effects were immediate. The Russian looked at the American with vengeful eyes, before his eyes closed, dead. The American doubled over in both surprise and pain, and fell to his knees.

_It's all over for me…_

He heard the gunfire outside, the explosions caused by the tanks and mortar fire. Now to him, they were just large headache starters. He lied down, letting death take over him, and moving him to who knows where.

But he also heard new voices that he recognized. He heard his squad mates, yelling various orders around as well as suggestions on where to flank, and how. Their voices were soothing to him, somehow. At least they would be able to keep fighting.

But life is cruel. An explosion landed nearby, nearly deafening the soldier. After he had regained his senses, he could no longer hear his squad's voices. He could hear various people, yelling that the Russians were getting more accurate with their mortar fire. The soldier knew what had happened. And he was going to make the Russians pay for it with their lives. His team, the ones that pulled him out of armoured vehicle wreckage, were dead. His team, the ones who trained him to not give up, were dead.

And then, he realized, the country he knew, the country he loved, the one he grew up in, the one where had his first date, his first marriage, his_ whole life, _was being destroyed. He started crawling towards thewindow, grabbing his sniper rifle on his way there. Without hesitation, he raised the scope to his eyes, and began to open fire.

_**Click!**_

A Russian who was manning the spotlight, guiding his comrades as to where the American's were holding out, fell.

_**Click!**_

The machine gunner on the front porch of the White House, stopping the American's advance, fell as well.

_**Click!**_

The captain, who was leading the infantry to purge out the Americans, dropped dead.

_**Click!**_

The man who was trying to get into a tank, fell dead inside.

The Russians on the ground, who had noticed the sounds of the sniper rifle, entered the building. They went up the stairs, splitting up as they encountered each floor, to find the sniper.

They found the sniper, in the moment of reloading. The slammed open the door and began to rush inside, yelling for the American to give up. The soldier, who had prepared for this moment, turned on his back, and used his pistol to kill the Russians as they rushed through the door.

It wasn't until long, that the pistol ran out of ammo. The Russians ran over to the soldier, who still refused to die. Rather than kill him straightaway, he aimed his own pistol at the soldier and said,

"Any last words, _scum?_" in English.

The American, surprisingly, still had enough strength to say the following words, albeit strained,

"Did you think that the US army is going to let you walk in, invade our country, then rape and defile it like the way your government did to itself?"

And with that, he used his thumb to pull the pin on the grenade in his right hand, which none of the Russians saw, due to it being covered in blood. None of the Russians ran. They knew that running away would be useless, as that they were so close to it that would still be killed when the grenade went off.

The Russian, who had asked the soldier for his last words, looked up, and out the window. He saw what the soldier saw, and he immediately knew why the soldier decided to keep fighting, despite what he had went through, and what he had to endure. He saw that the American's homeland was on fire, being destroyed.

The American, with the very last bit of his strength, said "I regret nothing."

The Russian who previously thought that America was a country that should be burned to the ground, and after seeing so for the first time, said and looked at the American as an equal.

"And I regret everything… my friend."


End file.
